


darling don't get away right now

by alanticipate



Series: prehension [2]
Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, One-Sided Attraction, but also it's unrequited love, hellstrop 4eva, i'm back with more angst :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27542128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanticipate/pseuds/alanticipate
Summary: Michael has read Eleanor's file, and there is virtually no mention of how her childhood spent clawing her way out from the bottom of the pile, being disappointed time and time again by parents who treated her as a mildly inconvenient fixture in their oh-so-busy lives, made her the most resilient person he has ever known.All he'd known at that first "Eleanor? Come on in" was that she was a jerk, and inflicting pain on her was a way of restoring moral balance to the cosmos. That has to signify some sort of problem with the 'perfect' system he works under (he reminds himself to follow up on that thought later, if he doesn't witness an actual murder first).Set in [3x06] - 'A Fractured Inheritance'
Relationships: Michael (The Good Place)/Eleanor Shellstrop
Series: prehension [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013163
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	darling don't get away right now

Michael hates the radio. 

There was a point, a little over a year ago, when Chidi, hanging out the side of a golden hot air balloon that would do nothing and take them nowhere, had described the sound of a fork in a garbage disposal. The clanging, the grating, the perpetual grinding (at this point, if he were voicing his thoughts aloud Eleanor would typically make a dirty joke, but right now she doesn't seem in the mood. Between dooming the humans to an afterlife of endless agony all over again and this, he's somehow far more concerned about this). 

That's what the radio sounds like now, as they drive through the suburbs of Nevada so that Eleanor can (he quotes) "murder Donna Shellstrop." He's still listening to the song, but they're already 2 and a half minutes in and he still can't remember for the life of him what the chorus was. His hands grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, and surprisingly, the headache eases somewhat.

(In another lifetime, he might have gleefully told Shawn that this specific piece of formula-generated music, this epitomization of both humanity's technological accomplishment and its limitless greed, is what the Bad Place truly needs to recover from its purgatorial ennui. Who gives a shit about the _spiders_ and the _lava_ when this exists, right?)

"Would you please turn that off?" She sounds tired, and Michael's alarm increases tenfold. It's one thing for Eleanor Shellstrop to be a tiny but deadly force of nature-- furious and oh so determined to bring his entire scheme crashing to the ground. It's quite another thing for her to be slumping in her seat, body limp, staring out into the blur of eggshell blue houses and shocks of green grass. These suburbs are probably the safest place he has ever been in his entire life, but just seeing her like this scares him more than he'll ever admit.

"Sit up," he tells her briskly, then regrets it a moment later because it sounds like a reprimand and that's not who he wants to be to her. As compensation he obeys her, turning the knob gently until the sound fades when what he really wants to do is rip it off and shred it to pieces (no, really, he could-- in fire squid form, at least). 

"It's Jason's favorite singer," Michael says conversationally. 

Eleanor grunts, rolling her eyes. But at least she's becoming slightly more good-humored than a few minutes ago. He doesn't need simultaneous vision in all possible spheres of existence to notice the way her lips, tinted a fresh watermelon pink, quirk up slightly at the mention of Jason. 

(It's very interesting for him to observe how the humans interact with Jason. Sometimes his incoherent tales frustrate all of them to no end and they make that quite clear, which makes sense in a gratifying sort of way; Michael may not be the best at enacting the torture, but he certainly trusts his instinct for innovation. 

But he also instinctively knows, without being told, that if Jason were to suddenly disappear one day, their little group wouldn't be leaping for joy. In fact, it would fracture and likely never recover. For all of Jason's simplemindedness, he is truly an enigma.)

"Only because he thinks Ariana Grande invented weed brownies and warm hugs."

A lull. 

"Which I'm assuming she did?"

Michael knows literally everything about everyone who is still alive, and he knows that Eleanor knows that he knows. All the same, it makes her laugh a little when he says that, so he doesn't regret feigning a little ignorance if it helps her feel better. 

(Shawn would say he's hit a low point, but Michael is far beyond caring.)

They reach a traffic light, and he seizes the chance to turn to her and ask if she's okay. At first he hadn't understood what was so bad about finding out her mother was alive after all; humans liked their parents to be alive, right? But really he knew, deep inside him, that it wasn't nearly half as great as a discovery like this should have been for her.

He has read her file, and there is virtually no mention of how her childhood spent clawing her way out from the bottom of the pile, being disappointed time and time again by parents who treated her as a mildly inconvenient fixture in their oh-so-busy lives, made her the most resilient person he has ever known. 

All he'd known at that first "Eleanor? Come on in" was that she was a jerk, and inflicting pain on her was a way of restoring moral balance to the cosmos. That has to signify some sort of problem with the 'perfect' system he works under (he reminds himself to follow up on that thought later, if he doesn't witness an actual murder first).

"Yeah, man, I'm fine," she shoots back quickly, and he remembers with sudden clarity that night on the purple striped picnic blanket. Then she sighs. "I'm just... I don't know."

"Try to sound it out," he says gently. _I'm here. I'm right here._

She takes a few moments to let the words sit in her mouth. "Angry. Bitter. Very, very bitter. Oh, and confused."

"A healthy dash of mental dissonance is always nice," Michael replies helpfully. 

"But mostly angry," continues Eleanor. "I mean, it didn't make much difference to my daily life, because I was on my own when I got the news."

Michael winces at the casual mention of how she had to actually raise herself.

"But still," she says, blinking back tears rapidly, "she was still in my life a little. So when she left, I thought, _well, she was a crappy mom, but at least she didn't leave me on purpose_. So to find out now that she actually did that? It's a bummer, honestly."

Michael ponders this. "Well," he says, "she did bet her life savings on a date with Gene Simmons."

Eleanor presses her lips together, and he sees a lone defiant spark rise up in her eyes, and he thinks, there it is. 

But she remains silent for a moment, and then she says, "That's her problem." 

Michael couldn't agree more, and he tells her this much. "I mean, obviously some women are into rockstars and that's valid, but I did think the silver shoulderpads and skunk hair were a bit on the nose--"

"No, man, I'm talking about the fact that she literally pretended she was dead to avoid seeing me ever again."

"Ah." 

They drive a little further. He is very, very tempted to reach out and pat her shoulder and tell her that everything will be alright, even if it is a lie and both of them know it.

(He's lied to her, without much difficulty, eight hundred different ways. It's in his blood, it's his nature, ordained since the beginning of Time. Yet this particular untruth somehow feels wrong in every way possible.)

"I--" he begins, but then she sucks in a breath, and her face sets into a well-practiced stony mask of indifference, and her eyes take on a new sharpness. That can only mean that--

"This is the place, right? The address you gave me."

He turns to look. Donna Shellstrop, now a yoga-pants-clad Diana Tremaine, happens to have pulled up on the pristine concrete driveway at the exact same time as they stopped the car. She's unloading two brown bags full of groceries from her car. A bed of carefully tended roses aligns the steps of the patio.

This is Eleanor Shellstrop's first glimpse in 10 years of the mother who ran away from her.

"Holy crap," says Eleanor. "Are those _vegetables_?" 

***

Little Patricia is too young to be properly horrified or angry at the sight of Eleanor holding a knife to her favorite teddy bear, Mr Snuggles, who is lying limp in a chokehold. 

At least, Michael dearly hopes so as he gives the bear back and exits the pastel pink room with a murmured apology. A part of him would like to say, with complete faith, that Eleanor Shellstrop does not have it in her to resent a child who just happened to be born to the boyfriend of a mother who left her without explanation. But he'd be lying to himself. 

The fact is that, although it's not nice and it's certainly not good-hearted, Eleanor sees Patricia as the girl who now has everything she didn't have growing up: namely, Donna's presence. 

('Can't you be happy for me, baby?' pleads Donna as her first daughter stares her down, arms crossed. 'This is a second chance.' And there's nothing Michael understands more than that, he reflects as he sits on the stairwell listening to the two of them-- being given a second chance. 

But here's the problem, see: trying again doesn't necessarily make things better for the people you hurt on the first go.)

They're at the school with its crisp brick walls and fresh new banner when Eleanor finally reaches a breaking point and yells (admittedly in response to his poorly-worded question about why she can't just accept that Donna has moved on and is trying to become a better mom), "Because I wanted that mom!" 

Michael feels as if he's been gutted for a while after that. He feels relieved that she is processing her feelings, naturally, but still. There's something about the pain in her voice, wavering and crashing, and the way she immediately pulls her denim jacket closer to her chest afterwards, that makes him _regret_.

(He has never regretted anything in his 2000-year life. But with every passing moment they spend in these Nevada suburbs, he wishes more and more that, above all else in the world, Eleanor had just had someone to make her afternoon snacks and remember her birthday. He doesn't know why it's these two things specifically, but there you have it.)

"If Donna Shellstrop has truly changed," Eleanor says with a defiant tilt of her head, "then she was always capable of change." Then something flashes in her eyes, and Michael thinks he detects a quiver as she says, "it just means I wasn't worth changing for."

(He has never been totally clear on the concepts of truth and falsehood either. To him, right and wrong are just pedantic labels for actions-- so, it follows, are honesty and lies. Michael still knows, though, without having to even think about it, that she is wrong about not being worth it. 

She was worth the trouble of creating eight hundred different not-paradises. She was worth his fumbling attempts to make himself more vulnerable and human in Chidi's secret ethics classes. And she was worth sacrificing himself for in the Bad Place.

He could think this through a million different ways and it would always come back to her.)

They sit on the patio of Dave's house in silence. Patricia has gone to a playdate and Donna is inside, mixing some margaritas for her yoga group at 7. Two birds perch on a power line. Clouds, pink and white, traverse the sunny expanse of sky high above. 

Eleanor is crying.

"There, there," says Michael, and it's so stupid that he wants to hit himself immediately afterwards. He shuffles closer to her, brings a protective arm up around her. Pats her hair as her shoulders shake violently. Runs a soothing hand down and up her arm in a rhythm as her breath catches and hinges on nothing.

 _None of this,_ he thinks, _none of it is fair to her._

Eventually her breath steadies. She's still holding on to his blazer, but her grip has loosened considerably and her shoulders are heaving less now. He offers her a handkerchief.

He's still holding her. He should stop now that she's better, but some part of him doesn't even trust that impression. 

(Humans, as a rule, are remarkably good at pretending to be fine, or at least to be better, when they're not. 

Chidi is an exception, though. If Michael didn't consider him a good friend and even sometimes a mentor, he'd say that the entirety of Chidi's personality could be distilled down to its physical manifestation: the stomachaches.)

The thought of Chidi sends a jolt through Michael's mind, and he pats Eleanor's back one last time before making a move as if to get up. 

She stops him, though. Draws him back down with a mere whispered, "will you stay for a little longer?" and her fingers still tangled in his.

And who is he to say no to her?

So they stay outside until she feels okay enough to begin talking, and until he makes her laugh once, and again, and again. She tells him about her cousin, older than her by 5 years, the first college-educated member of the family, and the only one who remotely tried to give a damn about her-- until Eleanor posted her credit card details on Reddit, that is. ("I can't high-five that," chuckles Michael even though Eleanor doesn't remember, "no matter how badly I want to.") He tells her stories about the things he's seen since the beginning of time. ("Thank god shrimp's been the same for literally forever," Eleanor says with undisguised relief. "Imagine where humans would be!" And then a second later, "no, Michael, I didn't mean _literally_ mentally reconstruct 2 million different scenarios for evolved shrimp--")

The stars lie strewn sedately across the pitch-black sky. The ground beneath their feet rumbles gently as cars drive past, people returning to their families or their pets. He is safe, at least for now, and better yet, so is Eleanor.

Everything, for once, is fine.

***

They say goodbye to Donna and Dave. Michael can tell Eleanor sincerely hopes that nine-year-old Patricia aces her SATs, and it's the thought that counts, right? And more importantly, he thinks (he might have to ask about this later) that Eleanor has made her peace with her mother, which is what they came here for.

(Late last night, after Eleanor had disappeared into the guest room to watch _Love Island_ and crash on the spare bed, Michael had been sitting at the kitchen island, racking his brain for some non-fake-afterlife designs-- or god forbid, outright Bad Place blueprints-- to give Dave. Donna had walked in then, purple earpods dangling from the pocket of her shirt and iPhone in hand.

They'd stared at each other for a couple of seconds.

Then Michael had said gently, "I think you know what you need to do." 

_You owe it to Eleanor_ hung heavy in the air.

Donna had sighed and looked down, the weight of too many years on her frame. Then, she'd raised her head with trepidation to meet his glance, keen and observant but completely devoid of judgment. "I think," she'd said, voice trembling slightly, "you're absolutely right.")

They look at each other, two Shellstrop generations of women who each took their destiny into their own hands. Donna smiles, a little teary. Eleanor steps towards her and gathers her into a tight hug. 

"Bye, honey," Donna says. Eleanor swallows. 

"Bye, mom. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Donna blinks once, twice. Then, she pulls Eleanor back in towards her and whispers something in her ear.

Michael, from where he's standing on the other side of the car, can't hear what she's saying. But he'd like to think that it's a very belated _I'm sorry._

After all, that's what Eleanor truly deserves.

And then just like that, the moment is over. Eleanor pops into the passenger seat as Dave turns away to peruse the bathroom-less designs Michael has presented him with and Donna calls out, "Bye, sexy Alex Trebek!"

Michael raises his hand and waves a little in acknowledgement. It's a bittersweet time for all of them, but still, he'll take a compliment when he gets one.

Eleanor looks over at him when he gets into the driver's seat. "So, where to next, my demony friend?"

He rolls his eyes at the 'demony friend' bit and puts the key into the ignition, about to mention the airport when a sudden urge to ask her how she is possesses him. So he pauses and he asks: "Are you feeling alright?"

Eleanor takes a moment to ponder the question. Then her face breaks into a grin. "Yeah," she says, "I think I'm fine now."

Michael nods, relief rushing through his veins. Because as long as Eleanor Shellstrop is okay, so is he.

This simple fact almost makes him reel, but only a slight twitch of his eyebrow gives this away (Jason would say he has no eyebrows anyway, so it doesn't really matter). But it's the pure and simple truth of the matter. 

Sooner, rather than later, he will have to tell her about Chidi. 

Sooner, rather than later, the Judge will tower above them in all her righteous, universe-mandated fury.

But for now, he turns his head to look at her. She nods, eyes crystal clear and deep-set. And that's all he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are always very much appreciated!
> 
> i wanted to explore this particular episode because kristen bell's acting was beautiful here. she really captured the emotions-- the resentment, the hurt and confusion-- of her character well, which is what made her eventual acceptance of donna's suburban lifestyle all the more touching. also, as far as i recall, donna tried to explain herself to eleanor but she never actually apologized for giving eleanor a crappy upbringing, so i really wanted to fix that. 
> 
> (also currently debating whether i should give this series a happy or sad hellstrop ending; advice can be given down below ;) personally i know this particular pairing has disproportionately more angst than chidi/eleanor or basically any other tgp ship, but i think that's what gives it beauty so i'm currently leaning towards a sad ending. at the same time i do think we all deserve happy endings, so it's still up for contention.)
> 
> thanks for reading!


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